


A Series of Nights in the Life of Klaus Hargreeves

by AlexTheShipper



Series: A Lifetime Worth of Anger [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Childhood Trauma, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Luther Hargreeves Being an Asshole, Panic Attacks, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, The Apocalypse, Time Travel, a canon amount of asshole, but like, i guess, not vanya friendly, the mausoleum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-07-26 01:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20035819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexTheShipper/pseuds/AlexTheShipper
Summary: Klaus Hargreeves is thirteen-years-old, and he hates personal training. He hates Reginald, and he hates everyone else for never helping him. Mostly though, mostly he's just scared.Klaus is thirteen-years-old and he almost told his sister what he has nightmares about, would have if she hadn't told him she wished she had powers.Klaus is an adult in a thirteen-year-old body and all the anger he's been holding onto is starting to bubble over.





	1. Those Nights

Everyone goes to sleep at nine, the same way they do every night, but tonight isn’t every night, tonight is training night.

Klaus wakes up just after midnight to the harsh sound of a cane tapping against the old wooden floor echoing through the hallway and into his room. He sit’s bolt upright, fear building in his throat as his siblings sleep soundly in their beds.

He knows what that sound means, can feel his heart attempting to beat its way out of his chest, as he trains fear filled eyes on the door. He watches, in the light from the moon as the door handle slowly turns, panic filling his lungs until it feels like he can’t breathe, until it feels like he’s choking.

The door opens silently, although it feels like the hinges should creak, like the very house should protest the way Klaus wants to. He flinches back, light streaming in from the open door, leaving Reginald Hargreeves as nothing more than a too familiar silhouette framed by light.

A familiar desire to scream bubbles up in his gut, as he looks at the man, he’s supposed to call Father. Useless pleas claw at his throat, begging to be released from the prison of his lips. His heart is pounding, adrenaline coursing through his veins begging him to act.

He’s tried action before, has tried running, screaming, begging, kicking, punching, everything. When he ran, he was caught, when he screamed, he was scolded, when he fought, he was subdued. He’s kicked and screamed entire nights, only to have Mom carry him to the car without flinching.

He remembers the time Reginald had grown tired of his protests and dragged him by the back of his shirt out of the bedroom.

He has screamed and cried until his throat aches and his tongue tastes like copper. All this adrenaline has never once helped him, only left him locked behind cold bars.

“Number Four, get up.” Reginald orders, his voice laced with steel. There’s never any room for argument in that voice, although that hasn’t always stopped Klaus from trying. He climbs to his feet despair weighing heavily on his heart.

Every cell in his body is telling him to run, but he forces himself to stand on shaky legs. Some small part of him has always been convinced that Reginald will stop the moment he appears unafraid. If he can just force his legs not to shake, his hands not to tremble, if he can chase the fear out of his eyes he’ll be allowed to go back to sleep.

Today, his legs shake.

Like every day before, his hands tremble, his knees feel like Jello threatening to collapse beneath him with every step. His fear shines in his eyes, like a desperate plea to be saved.

Despite his fear he walks to the door, holding back a flinch as Reginald’s hand clamps down on his shoulder. It isn’t comforting, it isn’t meant to be. The hand is cold and bony, squeezing too tight for comfort as it steers Klaus out of the room.

As they enter the hallway Klaus turns to Pogo, a plea in his eyes that has been ignored a hundred different times on a hundred different nights like this one. Pogo doesn’t meet his gaze.

Everyone else likes Pogo, he’s the nice one, but here in the dead of night where his eyes can never quite meet Klaus’, Klaus hates him. His cowardice makes Number Four want to snarl, and spit curses and accusations until there isn’t any air left in the room.

The hand on his shoulder tightens, a silent warning, and Klaus holds his tongue, fury simmering just under the surface.

He looks away, shoves down his anger and turns to Mom, the same desperate plea in his eyes. Someone help, anyone, help me. He wants to scream it. Mom just smiles back at him, the same as always.

She can’t help him; she isn’t programmed that way. He knows that. He hates her for it anyways, hates her for smiling that stupid smile on these nights. Hates her for standing there like an impassive machine when all he needs a mom.

He hates her the same way he hates Pogo, he hates them both for leading the way down the hallway, he hates them for driving the car, for locking the door. He hates them for never once letting him out before the night was over.

He hates Reginald more than anything. Hates the man with every fiber of his being, every breath in his lung. He hates Reginald with the type of hatred that burns in your heart, threatens to consume it. The type of hate that would watch the world burn if only he burned with it.

It’s the type of hatred that leaves room for nothing else.

Still, he follows them to the car, and he hates himself a little bit too. Hates that he follows them this time like he did last time, hates himself for giving up on fighting. He hates himself for quietly walking into his own prison.

He climbs into the back seat of his own volition, he doesn’t scream, he doesn’t fight. He sits quietly like he did last time, and the time before. His lungs burn with the desire to scream, to accuse, to curse, and hurt.

He doesn’t speak. He never speaks anymore, not after midnight, not in this car, not on these nights.


	2. That Place

He holds onto his anger like a shield, but it abandons him the moment the car rolls to a stop. Sitting just outside the old cemetery Klaus can’t hear the purr of the engine over the screams of the dead.

Klaus has never seen an empty graveyard, only ones filled to the brim with bloody decaying corpses, screaming at him, reaching for him, hands passing through his skin sending shivers down his spine.

There is nowhere on earth Klaus hates more than a graveyard, except the mausoleum.

They gather at the gates, all slit throats, and bloody torsos. They scream and they reach with gnarled hands, blood only he can see dripping from limbs and lips. The ghosts here are all mangled flesh, rot to the bones.

The fear is overwhelming, there is no room for hatred, no room for anything else but fear. He scrambles back, trying to put space between himself and the graveyard even as his seat-belt tangles around him.

His skin feels stretched too tight, and his lungs can’t seem to find air no matter how hard he tries to breathe. Even the sound of his heart beating in his ears isn’t enough to drown out the ghosts. He can feel it, his heart beating in his throat.

The car door opens, and a hand wraps around his ankle, and he’s unceremoniously dragged out of the car. For a moment Klaus is convinced it’s the ghosts, that this time they really will kill him. He squeezes his eyes shut, and cowers on the cold ground of the parking lot.

“Number Four, stop this foolishness at once.” Reginald orders, with that voice of steel, it doesn’t make his heart slow down, doesn’t make the cold sweat dripping down his back disappear, doesn’t make his breathing come any easier. “This is for your own good Number Four, you need to get over your fear, and we will continue doing this until you do, is that understood?” Reginald asks in that way that has never been a question. Klaus nods, because it’s the only option, and attempts to swallow around the stone that seems to have materialized in his throat.

Reginald scoffs, and shoves Klaus ahead of him down the path to the old mausoleum. With every step his heart beats a rhythm into his rib cage that screams for him to run. With every step his lungs lose the battle to find air. With every step he feels the urge to scream and cry, and plead scratching at his throat like an eldritch horror begging to be let out.

With every step the ghosts move closer.

He holds back the scream, as he is thrown into the mausoleum, the ground wet, and cold. He holds it back, as the metal doors are closed and locked behind him, he holds back the scream as a dozen ghosts, warped by their decades of death reach for him as one, each of them screaming his name. He holds back the scream until the moment that the car drives away, and then he breathes in, opens his mouth, and screams as if it will save him. Screams as if the air in his lungs will be strong enough to push the ghosts away.

It isn’t.

His knuckles turn white as he wraps his fingers around the bars of the door. He throws his weight into rattling, ignoring the clatter of chains, and the squeak of hinges that refuse to move. He shakes the door as if he can shatter it apart with his strength of will alone.

He screams and he sobs, and he tries so hard to ignore the sensation of phantom limbs passing through his skin, to ignore the chill that runs up his spine every time they touch him. He screams and he cries, because he’s thirteen, and all he wants is to go home. He scratches at the hinges until his hands are bleeding and screams until his mouth tastes like iron, and his lungs burn for air. He screams until his voice goes hoarse, and he can’t hold himself up anymore. He screams until there is no scream left.

By morning Klaus is curled up in the corner, shaking, covering his ears, and cursing god with every inch of his being.

By morning something inside of him is broken, just that little bit more.


	3. No Such Thing as a Night without Nightmares

The concept of a full night’s sleep has long been more of an abstract ideal than a reality for Klaus. He knows that some of his siblings don’t wake up with screams on their lips every night. He knows that it’s just him, but the idea of a full night’s sleep, well it’s just a little too hard for him to believe.

Not when every night ends the same.

_“Please, please dad, please let me out! I promise I’m not scared anymore.” He’s lying through his teeth, the tears dripping down his face a dead giveaway as he presses his face against the unforgiving prison bars. The ghost behind him screams, blood dripping from her eyes and ears as she grabs for him. He chokes on a sob, pressing further into the bars to try and escape. There’s never any escape. _

_“Three more hours, Number Four.” Reginald says, his voice cold and impassionate and Klaus feels so small and alone as hands reach out dragging him back into the mausoleum. Reginald turns to leave, ignoring Klaus screams, as ghostly hands find grip on his skin._

_ Mom smiles at him from the doorway, a pleasant look on her face as he screams for her help. As he pleads for her to do something, anything. Claw like hands dig into his skin and the bleeding ghost is joined by a dozen more. _

_“Would you like some dinner?” Mom asks from the doorway. He blinks back tears the words save me on his lips, but when he opens his eyes, she’s gone. _

_Cold hands wrap around his ankles and drag him further backwards into the darkness as Pogo takes her place. He watches on impassively, and Reginald appears behind him taking notes in his notebook. _

_“Don’t leave me here. Please! I’ll be good! I promise!” He cries, the metal doors don’t open. Reginald and Pogo turn around, they walk away, Mom joins them heels clacking against the old stone path as they disappear from view. A ghost screams his name, grabs onto him, and pull him deeper into the darkness. _

_Klaus _screams.

Klaus wakes up in a cold sweat, a too familiar tremor running through his body as he wraps himself in blankets. If he’s being honest with himself Klaus can’t remember the last time, he got a full night’s sleep. Can’t remember the last time he wasn’t awoken by either Reginald standing in the doorway, or the screams of the dead haunting his dreams.

He can’t stay here, trembling in bed. The adrenaline in his veins demands he get up; demands he do something.

He climbs out of bed on shaky legs and stumbles his way out of the bedroom. He’s home, at the Academy, with its familiar ghosts. They still scream, still bleed, still terrify him, but there are so few of them, and he can avoid them if he tries. He always tries, knocked over Reginald’s favorite vase dodging around the gnarled hands of the elderly ghost who screeches his name like a banshee during dinner sometimes. He’d been in trouble for two weeks for that.

He fell down the stairs once to avoid walking through the child with cold dead eyes and a bleeding throat. He’d been the butt of everyone’s jokes for weeks because of that one. He never explained, by the time he could speak again everyone had already made their own conclusions about what happened.

When he gets downstairs the light by the front door is on, and he wanders towards it, absently. The hall light is on as well, and he finds his feet carrying him towards it, following the trail of lights that leads him deeper into the house not paying attention to where he’s going until he finds himself standing in the kitchen. He stands for a moment in the middle of the room, staring absently at the cabinets.

“Hello.” Vanya’s voice, quiet as a church mouse startles him, and he jumps spinning around to find her seated at the table preparing a sandwich. There’s one on the plate next to her already, although she seems to have no intention of eating it.

“Hi.” He mumbles, and stumbles over to sit down at the table with her. They both pretend she didn’t frighten him, Vanya’s polite like that. Silence hangs in the air between them so thick you could choke on it.

He glances at the sandwich and his stomach turns. He can’t bring himself to be hungry. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, her quiet voice feels as loud as gunfire in the near silent house. He doesn’t flinch.

He turns to her, looks at her, searching for something he couldn’t put a name to. She seems every inch the concerned sibling. She tends to mother hen all of them after missions, and tonight seems no different as she clamors out of her seat to make sure he’s okay. Her eyes race over him looking for signs of injury. He knows he’s trembling. 

“Just a nightmare Vanya.” He shakes his head, and attempts to wave her off. It’s nothing to worry about, happens all the time. 

“You’re shaking.” She points out, and he shrugs. It’s late, and his heart is still racing in his chest, it’s hard to stop shaking. “Klaus you can tell me.” She sounds sincere, warm brown eyes looking for any trace of hurt. “I’m your sister, you can trust me.” He takes a deep breath and considers it.

Vanya has always been the kindest of them, the most willing to listen. Maybe she will understand.

“It was-“ He pauses, Reginald never said he couldn’t tell anyone, but it feels like he shouldn’t. It feels like the moment he opens his mouth Reginald will appear in the entryway and demand he prepare for more individual training. It feels forbidden.

“Go on.” Vanya encourages. He takes a deep breath, and he knows that the instant he opens his mouth it will all start to spill out, like a tidal wave. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop.

“It’s, my training. Well, really it’s my powers.” He starts, unsure of where to begin. He doesn’t notice the wistful look on Vanya’s face right away. “It’s,” He struggles for a moment, the words disappearing before he can form them on his tongue.

“I wish I had powers.” Vanya breathes out, and maybe she meant to encourage him, maybe she wanted to keep him talking, but those six words and it’s like all of his words dried up. Klaus looks at her, looks at ordinary Vanya, Vanya who gets to play the violin and sit out missions. Vanya who get’s to be normal, and in that moment, he hates her.

Hates her for having everything he ever wanted, he hates her for never knowing the terror of a ghost covered in its own blood screaming your name. He hates her for never feeling the fear that lives in his bones, and grasps at his heart every moment of every day. 

Mostly though, he hates her because she looked at him, with his eyes bloodshot from crying, his body trembling with fear, and she had the gall to tell him that she wished she had powers.

“Nevermind.” He says, and the word leaves his mouth like a curse and a condemnation. Vanya opens her mouth to argue, to try and convince him to talk, but he doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t want to listen to Miss. Ordinary try and tell him how lucky he is.

He leaves her and her empty plate, alone in the kitchen.

He leaves holding all the horror of the mausoleum inside him. He gives Vanya one last gift, ignorance. 

He doesn’t tell anyone, not another living being. Just climbs out the window and goes looking for a bar because he remembers a movie, they watched a few months ago, mentioning people drinking to forget. Tonight, he really wants to forget.

It isn’t until his third beer that he realizes the wailing ghost in the corner disappears, but within weeks his scrounging for any mind-altering substance he can get his hands on.

He falls into drugs like most people do a mother’s hug. A comfort he learns to call home in the decades that follow. The safest he’s ever felt is the moments when there’s so much pumping through his veins it feels like he’s floating a million miles away from his own brain.

The second safest he’s ever felt was the moment before she opened her mouth.

\---

Years later he stumbles across a book, with her face on the back cover. Extra Ordinary, she called it. 

_The Séance, Klaus, has always taken his powers for granted. Throughout my childhood I would have given anything to be like him, but he threw it all away, our fathers attention, his abilities. We were close once, when we were little, but around the same time he found drugs I lost him. He stopped talking to me, and I’ll never know why. _

_I think a part of me has always hated him for not using the abilities he had, for not appreciating them, he got to be extraordinary, and I was just extra ordinary Vanya. _

Klaus slams the book shut, his blood boiling in his veins. He’s not sure why he bought it, doesn’t know why he wanted to know what she thought of him. He doesn’t know why, after all these years, after that night, he still cares.

“I can’t believe she wrote that.” Ben’s ghost whispers. Right, that’s why he bought it, Ben wanted to read it. Ben loves all of their siblings, in a way Klaus doesn’t think he’s capable of anymore, there’s too much resentment in him. “I mean-“ Ben cuts himself off shaking his head in disappointment.

Klaus absolutely can believe she wrote that. Klaus has known since that night in the kitchen that Vanya hated them all, hated them almost as much as he hates her. “Reading that, it sounds like she really hates all of you.” Ben gestures to the book sounding genuinely baffled. Of course, she didn’t hate Ben, nobody but Klaus has spoken a word against Ben since he died. The perks of dying young.

“Good, I hate her too.” Klaus spits, the words like acid on his tongue. He’s never said it out loud before, kept his hatred as much of a secret as his fear. A smile and a good high and it was easy to act like the only thing you were was carefree. Ben stares at him, wide eyed and confused.

“Since when?” Ben asks, and Klaus shrugs, he doesn’t remember the date, just remembers the feeling. The anger and betrayal and the utter loneliness he felt sitting at the kitchen table with his sister sitting right next to him.

“Since we were kids.” He admits, he tries to sound casual about it, but a sneer tugs at his lips as he thinks about that night.

Jerry gives him a look from his cot, but talking to invisible people isn’t considered that weird here so Klaus feels no need to stop. Jerry’s stuck up anyways.

“Why?” Ben asks, and isn’t that the million-dollar question. Why? Klaus isn’t sure how to put it into words, doesn’t know how to convey that feeling of desperate fear that the mausoleum left him with, or the feeling of isolation in the moment that Vanya wished she had powers when all he wanted was to be free of his.

“I almost told her, about the mausoleum once.” He starts, because something about rehab leaves him honest some nights. Ben hums softly, both understanding and a question rolled into a soft sound. “I found her, in the kitchen after a nightmare. I was shaking and she wanted to know what was wrong.” The words rush out of him like a fountain. “I was going to tell her, just had to figure out how. She didn’t give me the chance.” His lips pull up in a sneer. “No, little Miss. Vanya just told me she wished she had powers.”

Of everyone Ben has always been the most likely to understand Klaus’ relationship with his abilities. After all Ben’s powers were even scarier than Klaus’.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that.” Ben says, but he doesn’t sound like he really believes himself, and Klaus certainly doesn’t believe him.

“It doesn’t matter how she meant it.” Klaus hisses, and all that anger burns in his stomach. “I can’t ever explain it in a way she would understand, and I don’t care.” He shrugs. It’s a lie, they both know it, hell even Jerry knows it. “She can keep her extra ordinary self far away from me.”

“Klaus.” Ben sighs, it’s the I’m disappointed in you voice.

“You want to know the worst part?” Klaus asks, Ben doesn’t answer, but he continues. “Despite that, despite how much I hate her, and I do hate her. I don’t want her to understand. I don’t ever want her to feel that type of fear.”

“Klaus.” Ben says softly, Klaus rolls over, pulling the blanket over his shoulder.

“I hate her, but I wouldn’t wish the ghosts on anyone.” Klaus whispers, he closes his eyes and ignores Ben’s attempts to talk about it. He just wants to rest. “Nobody deserves the mausoleum.” He whispers just before he drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Vanya, but this fic is really about the anger that can come out of abuse and how Klaus has directed that anger at someone who he views as having broken his trust.


	4. Going Back

“It’s working!” Fives voice is barely audible over the strange vortex of blue light that’s consuming them. Diego’s grip tightens around his hand. “Hold on! This is gonna get messy!” Five warns and then the wind is picking up and Klaus clings to Diego’s hand and Luthers arm like his life depends on it, technically it does. He shuts his eyes as the blue light grows blindingly bright, and reaches for the slight tug that comes from the phantom feeling of Ben’s hand on his back.

Everything shifts, twists. It feels like he’s being pulled in a thousand directions at once.

The hand on his back feels solid.

When Klaus opens his eyes, they aren’t dead, nor are they standing in a theatre, instead the familiar arched ceiling of the academy greets him. He let’s out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“We made it.” He whispers, a giddy laugh escaping his lips as he drops his hold on Diego and Luther spinning on his heel to take in the room. “We made it.”

“We made it.” The others agree, a mix of shock and awe in their voice, Five scoffs.

“Of course, we made it.” Which is so typical, Klaus rolls his eyes, it isn’t until he looks at Five that he realizes Five seems taller, or more accurately Klaus seems shorter. Something’s different, and a quick glance around the circle reveals all of his siblings, present and accounted for, and thirteen years old. A glance around the room reveals the ugly vase he shattered when he was fifteen poised on the table like it had never been touched, begging to be broken. 

It’s only the death grip Ben has on his shoulder that prevents him from rushing across the room so he can watch it crash to the ground.

“Well, we made it.” Diego repeats, and Five rolls his eyes. “We’re alive, what do we do now?” He doesn’t look to Luther for advice, but Five.

“We take care of Vanya.” Five announces, looking slightly smug, while Luther looks a bit like he just sucked on a lemon. It’s a good plan, but Klaus personally doesn’t want to help.

“Sounds good, I’m just gonna go see if my stash is in my room, because if not I have some errands to run.” He jerks his thumb towards his room, and stumbles away from the circle only to have Diego grab his collar and yank him back in.

“We’re doing this as a family.” Allison announces, and her glare falls on each of them in turn. Klaus raises his arms in surrender. Luther opens his mouth to speak and Allison’s foot lands firmly on his. “As a family.” She hisses.

“She shouldn’t wake up alone, we’ll take shifts watching her.” Five decides, ignoring the tension between Luther and Allison like a champ. Luther is still holding Vanya, passed out in his arms, and she looks so small and vulnerable. Klaus doesn’t know how Luther can recommend locking her up, but then again Klaus has never been able to stomach cages.

“I’ll go first.” Allison decides, her voice is firm, her words offer no room for argument. Her hands reach up to touch her neck absently as she speaks. “I’ll go first.” She smiles softly at them all, and Klaus is happy to let her take first shift, hopefully Vanya wakes up soon.

Allison reaches for Vanya, as if to take her from Luther, who pulls their sleeping sister away like the overprotective oaf he is.

“She hurt you.” Luther states, and he’s only said it once but already he feels like a broken record. Klaus looks to Ben mouthing _blah blah blah _while moving his hand like a mouth and rolling his eyes. Ben snorts. “I’m not going to let her hurt you again.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I’m fine.” Allison hisses, gesturing to her unscarred throat angrily. “And that is my sister, and it’s not your decision what I do.” Klaus can’t help thinking about how unsurprising it is that they’re fighting not even five minutes after surviving the apocalypse. “I want to be there when she wakes up, and you,” She jabs a finger into Luther’s chest. “Can’t.” Another jab, and Luther takes a step back. “Stop me.” 

Somehow, Luther is stupid enough to argue back, and opens his mouth to do so. Luckily for him Ben steps in before Allison eviscerates him.

“Jesus fucking Christ do you assholes ever shut up.” Ben grumbles, rolling his eyes in frustration. “I’d love to take second shift, but no we’re just gonna sit around bickering like children.” Klaus turns a sad smile to the younger ghost of his brother, and shrugs, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, which is the only proper way to whisper if you ask Klaus.

“I hate to break it to you, Benny boy, but they are children.” He giggles at his own joke, but for some reason Luther’s response never comes. He looks back at his siblings wondering what silenced them only to see all of them staring next to him, staring at Ben. Actually, properly staring at Ben. A laugh escapes Klaus’ lips, shocked glee.

“Ben?” Allison seems to be the first to gather her wits, head tilted to the side in a way that reminds Klaus of a confused puppy. He elbows Ben, a smile tugging at his lips and gestures at his siblings.

“Are you?” Diego asks, trailing off with a shake of his head. Ben is practically vibrating out of his skin, and Klaus isn’t doing much better.

“You’re alive.” Luther blurts, answering Diego’s unasked question. Klaus is pretty sure if Luther wasn’t holding Vanya he would be pointing at Ben like that spider-man meme. Which is a hilarious mental image, and nearly causes Klaus to succumb to a giggling fit.

“Oh, Klaus managed to bring you back.” Five mumbles, and his eyes are drooping slightly as his hand lands roughly on Klaus’ shoulder. “Good job.” His other hand twitches, as if he wants to be writing something, and he seems to be swaying slightly.

“I missed you guys.” Ben says, with a smile so wide his eyes crinkle in the corners. Klaus sees the way his hands tremble slightly as he reaches out, and suddenly they’re all being pulled into an awkward, many limbed, hug.

“We missed you too.” Everyone replies, and Klaus slaps his favorite sibling on the shoulder. It’s nice, in a way this family hasn’t been in too long.

“You can take second shift.” Allison nods to Ben when they finally pull apart. There’s a lull in the conversation, and Klaus knows he should volunteer, but he can’t bring himself to. He doesn’t want to.

Ben shoots him a knowing look. Ben always knows.

“I’ll take third.” Luther announces, as if he’s offering to go off to war or something. He probably see’s this as his god given duty, and Luther has never been one to shirk his duty as much as the others have wished he would. He looks like he’s expecting to die sitting in a room with a passed out thirteen-year-old girl.

Although, if Klaus is being fair aforementioned passed out thirteen-year-old did start the apocalypse, but since when has Klaus ever been fair.

“It that really a good idea?” Diego scoffs, and Klaus can practically see Luther’s hackles rise, although he isn’t nearly as furry anymore. Diego continues before he can protest. “You locked her in a cage.” Luther really can’t argue with that so he just glares. “I can take third shift, and you can hover behind Allison through her whole shift like you were planning to anyways.”

Luther can’t really argue with that no matter how much he seems to want to. Five cuts in before he can pull enough words together.

“I’ll take fourth shift.” The old man announces, although it’s hard to make out what he’s saying with how badly his words are slurring together. It’s completely unsurprising when the old man’s eyes roll back into his head, and he falls forward, Diego darting forward to catch him.

“Somehow, I don’t think he’ll be taking fourth shift.” Klaus points out, and Ben gives him an unimpressed look. “What? He won’t.”

“Is he dead?” Diego asks, which is dumb because he absolutely knows how to check a pulse. He settles Five on the floor gentler than Klaus would expect, and then proceeds to poke the old man with his toe. Klaus glances around the room, but there’s no ghost so they’re probably fine.

Five snores loudly then, as if to confirm that he is in fact alive. “Guess not.” Luther mumbles, and Ben’s glare shifts to him. Diego shrugs, and Allison grabs a pillow to stick under his head.

“What are you children doing down here?” Reginald’s voice rings across the room, and Klaus goes deer in the headlights still. Suddenly he’s thirteen and afraid all over again.

“I heard a rumor you went to bed and forgot all about this.” Allison snaps, there’s no hesitation, not when Reginald turns and walks away, not when Luther shoots her a betrayed look. “Klaus, you’ll take fourth watch.”

There’s no room for him to refuse, so he nods in agreement and hopes like hell she wakes up before then.


	5. Wake Up Call

Luther lays her down in her old bedroom, and Allison and him disappear into the room. Klaus dodges Ben’s concerned looks and questions, climbing onto the couch and letting himself fall asleep. He doesn’t wake up until Allison slides the door open, his face is pressed into the couch, and he was definitely drooling, all signs of a fantastic sleep.

“Is she up?” He asks, and he probably sounds concerned, but he’s just hoping he won’t wind up watching her. Allison shakes her head sadly.

“No.” Luther says, and he sounds sad about it, maybe Allison managed to talk some sense into the idiot during the last three hours.

“Hey, maybe Luther glaring scared her into staying asleep.” He jokes, elbowing Luther’s side as he says it. “She’ll wake up soon.”

“I hope so.” Allison says, Klaus doesn’t say me too, but he really does hope so, he doesn’t want to be in charge of an awake Vanya. The conversation fizzles out, and Ben disappears into Vanya’s room.

Eventually Klaus falls back into a restless sleep.

He’s already awake when Ben stumbles back into the room looking more exhausted than when he left.

“Is she?” Diego asks, and Ben just shakes his head, brushing past Klaus’ shoulder as he heads upstairs. “My turn then.” Diego mumbles, and Klaus prays to god in a way he hasn’t in years, he asks the little girl god to let Vanya wake up while she’s with Diego.

He forgot the little girl god hates him.

It’s been nine hours and Klaus is left sitting beside the sister he hates. He ducks into the room, stubbornly ignoring the chill that seems to permanently take up residence in his bones. Vanya’s asleep in her bed, eyes closed, she looks young, they all do.

There’s a chair right next to the bed, a chair he won’t sit in, it’s too close. He climbs onto her desk instead, as far away as he can get pushing things aside so he can lounge against the brick wall. He sits there in the heavy silence of her breathing for a moment.

Klaus was never built for silence though.

“Hey Vanya, guess what?” She doesn’t reply, he doesn’t expect her to. “Allison thinks that you started the apocalypse because we were never there for you.” He snorts derisively at the thought, staring at his own feet as they swing idly. “I think that’s fucking stupid though, I mean if you want to talk about having no support system look no further than moi.” He gestures to his own chest head knocking back into the wall with an audible crack. “And I only ever destroyed myself.” He giggles, even though it isn’t funny.

“I mean, when were you ever there for me Vanya? When were any of you? I’ll tell you when, never.” He sneers. “You don’t see me wiping out all life on earth.” He knows she can’t answer him, wouldn’t say any of this if he thought she could. He hasn’t spoken a word to Vanya since that day when they were thirteen.

She must remember it, she wrote about it in her book after all.

“I just, I hate you.” He whispers, and he means it, hates her slightly more than he hates Luther.

“What?” Vanya jerks awake, sitting bolt upright in bed and nearly giving Klaus a heart attack. “This isn’t real.” She whispers, staring at the walls of the academy. Her words sound almost prayer like in their intensity as she brings her hands up in front of her face. “This can’t be real.” She’s clearly panicking, and there’s a breeze picking up speed in the small space.

“Vanya.” He starts, and then freezes unsure how to continue. How do you tell someone they caused the apocalypse, is there a way to tell someone that, preferably with tact and without causing a second apocalypse? She turns to him, her eyes glowing a faint white and for a moment Klaus has to wonder if Luther was right, maybe they did just bring the bomb back with them. No, that’s ridiculous, Luther’s never right.

“Klaus, you’re so young.” She says, the glow fading from her eyes as she looks around the room. “What happened?” She asks, and well Klaus was never known for his tact.

“You found out you had powers, slashed our sisters throat, killed a man, got locked in a cell by Luther, broke out using your powers, destroyed the academy, killing mom and pogo by the way, and then started the apocalypse.” He lists off, watching her eyes to see if the glow returns. She flinches at the first mention of Allison, but the glow is back full force the moment he mentions Luther, and fading again when he mentions the apocalypse. “The good news is, I’m no longer the family fuck up, I mean drug addict vs. cause of the apocalypse, doesn’t really compare.” He says, a sharp smile on his face. “Bad news is Five jumped us all back into our 13-year-old bodies to save us and now we’re trapped in the past.”

“You really blame me for the apocalypse?” She asks, as if he shouldn’t. He shrugs, sure Luther locked her up, and Alli fired the gun, but at the end of the day Vanya did cause the Apocalypse. “If you all had just told me the truth.” She hisses the wind growing stronger as every word leaves her mouth, papers start flying off the floor and desk whipping around the room. “I thought I was ordinary, I had nothing.” She cries out, almost seeming to float as she climbs out of bed eyes brilliant white.

Klaus has never been afraid of dying though.

“So what?” He asks, voice even and strong as steel. She pauses, the wind settling slightly, head tilted to the side as if asking a silent question. Years of anger are clawing at Klaus’ chest when he opens his mouth. “Poor ordinary Vanya, so sad.” He mocks, clamoring off the desk with rage vibrating in his bones. “So fucking what?” He spits.

“I wanted to be like you!” She says, tears forming in her eyes. Klaus can’t help it, he laughs, the sound sharp and cruel.

“Like me?” He asks, and every bit of laughter disappears from his voice. “You wanted to be like me? That’s rich.” He shakes his head. “You don’t even know what that means.” He looks her in the eye’s looks into the blazing white glow that promises death, and he smiles. “I hate you, you know.”

“I knew it!” She cries, gesturing around the house. “I knew you all hated me, you all must have been so happy when dad locked away my powers.” She doesn’t understand, she doesn’t want to.

“Vanya, I didn’t even know you had powers until two days ago and I’ve hated you since we were thirteen.” He says, and that stops her short. “That’s just me by the way, I’m not speaking for anyone else. I, Number Four, hate you.”

“Why?” She asks, tearfully, and his rage bubbles over.

“Because you got to be ordinary!” He roars, hand slamming into the desk. She freezes, and for a moment it’s so quiet a normal person could hear a pin drop. It’s so quiet Klaus can hear the woman sobbing upstairs. He isn’t done yet though. “While I was screaming for help from anybody locked in a cold wet dark mausoleum surrounded by screaming ghosts who wanted nothing more than to tear me apart piece by piece you got to stay home and sleep in a warm bed. When I accidently manifested them and they got the chance to try, when they left me bloody and bruised, you were here playing fucking violin.” He’s saying too much, and he knows it, but he isn’t able to stop anymore.

“Klaus.” Her voice is whisper soft, and full of pity and his rage bubbles right back up.

“Don’t.” He snaps. “I tried to tell you, you know, after three days without sleep because the ghosts from that fucking place haunted my dreams, because my skin still had marks left by their teeth.” He stabs a finger towards the kitchen. “Do you remember what you said to me that night?”

“Klaus,” She says, an attempt to soothe him, but she won’t meet his eyes. How can she expect to calm a decades old anger when she won’t even look at him.

“You told me, ‘I wish I had powers’. Like it would be better to be bloody and broken than to be ordinary.” He spits each word like a curse. “That is why I hated you, and your stupid fucking book, thinking I took my powers for granted, have you ever considered all the things you took for granted Miss. Ordinary?” He hisses.

“I didn’t think-“ Vanya starts, and Klaus just snorts a laugh.

“You got your wish Vanya, and I pity you, because now you were special before, but now, now you’re the girl who started the apocalypse, the girl who killed every life form on earth, you’re the reason Five was stranded in a wasteland, so I’d say you’re special all right.”

“It’s not my fault.” She says, and Klaus thinks it sounds weak. “ I was alone, at least you guys had each other.” He looks her in the eye, his rage dying down to a simmer in his gut.

“Who did I have Vanya? Who was with me in that mausoleum?” Klaus asks, because none of them ever cared enough to try and save him. “Who was with me all those years on the street? The ghost of a brother we killed, who was only with me because literally no one else could talk to him?” He asks, and she doesn’t answer. “All of us were alone Vanya.” He slams his hand down on the desk. “You aren’t special for being lonely.”

“You were The Umbrella Academy.” She gestures towards the foyer, to the pictures they both know she wasn’t in.

“I was a child.” He hisses. “A terrified kid, with powers that scared the life out of me. I didn’t want to be part of some super hero team killing people that would then stalk me and blame me for their deaths. I never wanted to be tormented by my powers with no one to turn to.” She opens her mouth. “Poor little Vanya all alone playing violin, cry me a goddamn river. You were lonely and excluded by dear old Reggie boo fucking hoo, we all have trauma sweet heart you don’t see us ending the world over it.” 

“You don’t understand.” She cries, and he can admit that he truly doesn’t.

“I don’t understand, but I do know that even given how much I hate you, you’re my sister and I would never wish my powers, and the training dad put me through on anyone. Not you, not Pogo, not even Reginald himself, but if I would do anything if it would make them go away, I have done anything.” He had tried in the past, overdosed too many times to count trying to drown out the ghosts, but the little girl god truly did hate him. No peace, even in death. “I spent the better part of my life high off my ass to make them go away, and I do mean _better_ part of my life.” She doesn’t say anything, and he can’t do this anymore.

“I’ll go get Allison.” He says, moving towards the door. He almost thinks he hears her say sorry as the door closes behind him, but it was probably just a trick of his imagination. 


End file.
